


my d is vip

by thunderylee



Category: Sexy Zone, SixTONES (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, dick piercing, dressing room bj
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-16 02:21:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12333531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Fuuma can’t take Juri anywhere.





	my d is vip

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for shiritori.

“Remember my dick is still sensitive,” Juri hisses, and Fuuma just rolls his eyes as he drags Juri through the department store.

“It’s been like five months,” Fuuma says. “Does it really take that long to heal?”

“Three and a half, and _yes_.” Juri cringes as they catch sight of the lingerie section. “You try getting pierced there and being stimulated _all the fucking time_.”

“It’s just underwear,” Fuuma scoffs. “Control yourself.”

“You control yourself,” Juri snaps back, keeping his head down when they reach the racks of lacy bras and— “ _Dammit_.”

“Seriously?” Fuuma can’t decide whether to laugh or find a place for them to hide, doing a combination of both as he grabs some random clothes from a rack and shoves them into the men’s dressing room, snickering the whole way.

“You’re an asshole,” Juri whispers, plopping down onto the bench and curling up into his own lap. “I don’t even know why I’m friends with you.”

“Because I’m hot.” Fuuma frowns at one of the shirts he’d grabbed in haste. “With awful taste in sweaters, god, I hope nobody saw me bring this in here.”

“Can you just _shut up_ ,” Juri grumbles, grabbing onto his own hair as he rocks back and forth. “Your voice isn’t helping.”

That has Fuuma eyeing him, letting the implications of that statement sink in as he hangs the ugly shirts on the rack and takes a seat next to Juri. “You like my voice, huh?”

“Don’t, Fuuma.”

“Are you sure?” Fuuma feels a little sadistic as he drags fingers up Juri’s spine, watching him shiver. “Damn, you’re a mess. Just get off already.”

“W-what?” Juri sputters. “I’m not doing that with you here.”

“You have no problem showing me your new piercing, but you won’t take care of it right now so you can walk like a normal person?” Fuuma tilts his head. “I find that a little ridiculous.”

“You jerk off in front of your friend and tell me how comfortable you feel,” Juri growls. His voice is getting deeper than usual and Fuuma finds it rather enticing.

“I’ll do it with you,” he offers, and Juri freezes. “Come on, you know you want to, and now I kinda do, too.”

Juri pauses at that, shifting awkwardly with the weight of Fuuma’s arm on his back. “You do?”

Smirking, Fuuma leans down to Juri’s ear and whispers, “I really do.”

The way Juri nearly jumps out of his skin leaves Fuuma both amused and incredibly turned on, rushing to unfasten his belt with the one hand he has free. It does feel a little weird, but it’s also incredibly thrilling and Fuuma’s already hard before he even touches himself. The initial contact pulls a soft noise from his throat, which has Juri shivering again.

“If we’re going to do this, we need to be quiet,” Juri grumbles, still hunched over and staring at the floor as he reaches for his own belt.

“I doubt anybody else is gonna come in here,” Fuuma whispers. “It’s a fitting room specifically for men and men never try shit on.”

“That’s a good point, but…” Juri trails off as he shoves his hand down his pants, shaking as he obviously holds back. “Just keep talking.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” Fuuma replies. He blows air into Juri’s ear and smiles when Juri chokes on a moan. “Wasn’t it you who said we have to be quiet?”

“Shit,” Juri gasps, and Fuuma twitches as he wraps his hand around himself properly and starts to squeeze. “You have no idea how fucking sensitive I am now.”

“I’m a little jealous,” Fuuma admits, noticing how Juri seems to be trembling all over like his arousal is just as good as an orgasm. “Maybe I should look into getting mine done.”

Juri laughs at that. “You couldn’t take the pain.”

“Did you like it?” Fuuma asks. He’s always wondered why someone would want to get pierced there and didn’t have the nerve to ask Juri before now. “The pain, I mean. Did it feel good?”

“Yeah, a little,” Juri answers, getting more comfortable as he gasps at his own touch. “I’ve always kind of been, you know, rough with myself, and I just…stop making me talk.”

Fuuma grins. “Sorry. Can I see?”

“What? No.” Juri shakes his head so hard that his hair smacks Fuuma in the face. “That’s too mu— _ah_.”

Clearly Juri is lying through his teeth, because he’s moving his hand faster and makes a noise that’s too sudden to swallow back. That thrill shudders through Fuuma again and he does the only thing his half-functioning brain can think of to do, which is to grab Juri by the face and press their mouths together, effectively silencing him.

He expects Juri to freeze or even shove him away, but Fuuma’s the one taken by surprise when Juri kisses him full on, grabbing Fuuma’s collar with his free hand to pull him closer. Juri’s the one who licks at Fuuma’s lips first and Fuuma’s too dazed to do anything but respond, tilting his head to deepen the kiss and make some noises of his own as he jerks himself off a little harder.

“Let me—” he gets out when they break apart for air, lips still pressed together to muffle any stray sounds. “Let me touch it.”

Juri just nods, and Fuuma spares a thought to Juri actually agreeing to this as they switch hands effortlessly and Juri’s fingers are around him, small but firm. If he wasn’t so damn turned on, it would be funny how he’s the one who’s fumbling to get a grip on Juri’s cock, but all he does is dive back into Juri’s mouth as Juri’s rough handling of his own has him whimpering.

“Too much?” Juri breathes, and Fuuma nods a little. “Sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, don’t stop,” Fuuma says, and Juri kisses him so hard that his mind spins, forgetting all about the piercing until his thumb bumps it and Juri makes a beautiful noise into his mouth. He wants to ask if it’s okay to play with it, but he can’t very well speak with Juri occupying his tongue. Figuring Juri will stop him if it hurts, he moves his finger up to pinch the ring and Juri shudders before him, moaning so loudly that it reverberates all over Fuuma’s mind.

He’s so close, realizing way too late that they don’t have any way to avoid a mess. Abruptly he tears his mouth away from Juri’s and looks around, eyes landing on the ugly sweater.

“They’ll probably DNA test it and get us fired,” Juri whispers, his voice so, so low, and Fuuma would laugh at being on the same wavelength if he wasn’t so desperate to come.

“Then it can’t be helped,” Fuuma says, turning toward Juri and pushing his slightly damp hair out of his face. “You’re gonna have to let me see it. While I go down on you.”

“I—okay,” Juri agrees way too quickly, only looking a little uncomfortable as he sits up straight and exposes his lap. Fuuma tries not to stare, but the piercing practically shines in the bright dressing room light, the silver captive bead ring standing out from the small pool of precome at the head.

The next second has Fuuma on his knees, grateful that it’s one of those fitting rooms where the walls go all the way to the ground as he rests his elbows on Juri’s thighs and licks at the ring. Juri stuffs a fist in his mouth, the other one balled at his side as he trembles in his seat.

“I’m going to come in your face if you keep doing that,” Juri removes the fist long enough to hiss.

“Okay, okay,” Fuuma gives in, taking Juri’s length all the way into his mouth. He can’t look up at Juri’s face anymore, but the choked noise he hears tells him it’s good. Blindly he reaches up to find Juri’s other wrist, gently coaxing it open and guiding it to his own hair, which Juri’s fingers grab onto just roughly enough for Fuuma to like it.

Fuuma can feel the piercing hitting the back of his throat and it’s the weirdest thing ever, his reflexes automatically swallowing around it and driving Juri even crazier. “Gonna come,” he hears muffled from above and leans back enough to suck on the head, tonguing that ring as fast as he can and Juri physically jerks where he sits from the force of his orgasm.

After Fuuma drinks down everything Juri gives him, he practically pounces Juri and grabs for one of those small hands. “You don’t have to put it in your mouth, but do something, please? I’ll catch it with my hand if I have to.”

“I’ll…I’ll do it,” Juri says, still catching his breath and looking more amazed than apprehensive. “I can’t do it with you straddling me, though.”

Fuuma scrambles off of him and sits as quietly as he can manage, eyes widening when Juri just leans over and puts his face in Fuuma’s lap. The first lick is tentative, like he’s nervous, and instantly Fuuma lowers a hand to rub Juri’s back, feeling him relax.

“Feels good,” he whispers, arching a little as Juri gets more confident in his actions. “I’m not gonna take very long at all. You were so fucking hot I nearly came in my pants.”

Juri moans softly at that, which Fuuma feels more than hears as Juri takes more of the length into his mouth. Fuuma’s touch turns rough as he scrunches the back of Juri’s shirt in his fingers, but Juri doesn’t seem bothered by it as he brings up a hand and squeezes Fuuma’s shaft while sucking on the head.

“Okay, I’m there,” Fuuma hisses out, and now he’s the one stuffing a fist into his mouth to keep from informing the entire store what they’re doing. That thought has Fuuma coming even harder, hips snapping up into Juri’s hand that jerks him through it, mouth tight around the head to slurp him down.

They’re both breathing heavily when Juri pulls back, wiping his mouth with his arm, but Fuuma doesn’t let him too far, his grip on Juri’s shirt firm. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” Juri agrees, busying himself with fixing his pants while decidedly not looking at Fuuma. Fuuma can see his red face in the mirror, but says nothing of it. “We should go. Now.”

“That’s a good idea,” Fuuma says, standing to hike back up his own pants. They probably look as conspicuous as ever rushing out of the store with their heads down, both staring at the floor, but they manage to make it outside and Fuuma feels a rush like they’d actually succeeded in stealing something.

It’s not until they get to the street that Fuuma realizes they’d never actually gotten around to finding a present for his mother.


End file.
